“What did he mean by that?” I asked, hooking my finger into Jack’s belt to jerk him a little closer.
Jack pressed his hand over my heart. “Oh, when we were downstairs, I told him that I was in love with you and that if he wanted to paint me, he’d have to paint me in love.”
I was sure Jack had felt my heart jump under his palm. “Oh yeah?” I said, as though it wasn’t a big deal. As though I wasn’t seconds away from breaking into a touchdown dance right here in the entrance.
Jack Barley lovedme.
Goddamn. It was the best I’d ever felt.
Jack shoved me a little. “And then I told him that you were in love with me, too.” He held his breath. “Now tell me, Seb, was I lying to him?” 8
Five years earlier
Ryan pulled my hair harder, his belt buckle hitting my forehead.